Ocean: The Sea Warriors by Brian Herbert, Jan Herbert

Pacific Ocean, just beneath the surface, Alicia wondered why Gwyneth was even on the list of names that had appeared to Kimo, and what the unusual teenager could possibly do to help the ocean. It must be something important, because Alicia had confirmed with Kimo what she’d thought when she first saw Gwyneth on the pier in England—he said the girl was the same person he’d seen in his dreams, the same one who seemed to have absorbed huge amounts of ocean-related data into her brain. At the first opportunity, Alicia wanted to talk more with Kimo about Gwyneth, but that would have to wait until after all the volunteers visited Moanna—and were either accepted or rejected as Sea Warriors.
    At the moment, Kimo was lying at the front of the passenger compartment, his hands and face pressed against the soft pod floor, massaging the amalgamated creatures and humming something melodic to them, calming them and somehow encouraging them to follow the course he wanted, urging them onward in the sea. She couldn’t hear Kimo now, but whenever she drew close she heard him making undulating sounds, and whenever he paused she heard the faint response tones of the creatures. She recalled an earlier conversation with Kimo in which he’d said that some aquatic animals made response tones to him, as if mimicking him—and she had observed him imitating the natural sounds made by turtles, dolphins, and whitetip sharks. It gave her a warm feeling, knowing that Kimo was so connected to the ocean. She loved both of them.
    Kimo had also told her that he could send jetfish pods to wherever he wanted them to go, and not accompany them. But when he did ride in them, he liked to strengthen his bond with their species. They were a collective organism, he’d explained, and by getting close to them whenever he could, he was making a strong connection with all living members of the jetfish species, no matter where they were in the world.
    The passenger compartment was noisy now, from numerous animated conversations that were going on simultaneously. She listened in on one of them for a moment, two men saying that humans needed to be completely evicted from the ocean if they were not going to treat it right. To Alicia, it was a startling thought, yet one that made some sense philosophically, though not from a practical standpoint. Anything like that would be a monumental undertaking, doomed to certain failure.
    Two female scientists were discussing technical methods that might be used to heal ocean waters that were in the most trouble, including in the Pacific Ocean where coral reefs were dying on such a frightening scale, bleaching out and breaking into lifeless pieces. Other recruits discussed new laws that were needed, and strict enforcement all over the world.
    Alicia stared at Kimo, transfixed by what he was doing….

    Several days ago, during one of Kimo’s breaks, she had asked him how he guided the jetfish. The two of them had been sitting on one of the interior benches in the forward section of the passenger compartment, a few feet from Shauna McDill, the professional storyteller they had brought along. A short woman with soft features and eyeglasses, McDill had been standing with her back to Alicia, telling a humorous tale about an African fishing village that was populated by wise women and foolish men. The storyteller’s accents and sound effects were highly amusing.
    In answer to Alicia’s question, Kimo had shrugged. “Can’t say I know how I do it, but it’s almost like I was born with the ability and only discovered it recently.”
    “You hum something to the jetfish, and press your hands against their soft flesh, stroking it or massaging it. Somehow the creatures go exactly where you want them to go, and yet you can’t see outside the hull, so you can’t possibly see where we’re going. How do you set courses or make course corrections?”
    “It’s the same answer as before. I just don’t know. Except that I feel a